At 3 o'clock this morning I had to despatch Mr. Brown to secure the release of Eddie and Bertie from the local lock-up. It seems that the landlord of the tavern had taken offence to their ribald behaviour and had summoned the constabulary. A young constable duly arrived and arrested them. Bertie asked the constable if he knew who he was dealing with, to which the young man replied no and that he didn't care, his passage to Botany Bay is being booked as I write.
After a few hours sleep I went out to survey the damage caused by Wilhelm's experiments with high explosives. Treading gingerly amongst the rubble that had once been the wall of our magnificent terrace I made a most distressing discovery, one of our gardeners, or rather pieces of one of our gardeners distributed unevenly hither and thither. It is fortunate that one has many gardeners.
That a person with one arm could wreak such havoc is perhaps an admirable achievement in a perverse manner, however I do find myself wishing that both of his arms had been rendered useless at birth.
I had a long talk with Eddie this afternoon and he has assured me that Miss Nichols is entirely mistaken in her assertion that it was he who did most brutally murder her. He says that the ornamental dagger bearing his monogram which was found in Miss Nichols' room was "put there by a Peeler who has it in for me".
I have to go now as the chimney sweep has just found some ragamuffin in one of the flues who has been there since his last visit. Stupid child.
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